


In Life like in War

by Chocolataulait



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolataulait/pseuds/Chocolataulait
Summary: ''For some unknown reason, Harleen felt suddenly stricken by the other girl's beauty. A strange emotion slipped into her heart as she was able to see a side of her friend that she had never known existed before. Her hand reached forward, brushing against the skin of the sleeping girl's forehead as the pushed aside a stray strand of hair. She let her fingers linger there a few seconds. She was about to pull her hand away when her wrist was roughly caught into a strong grasp. She barely had the time to register what was happening that she was pinned down to Pamela's bed, a small dagger pressed against her throat.''
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Selina Kyle, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 98
Kudos: 264
Collections: HarleyxIvy





	1. Prologue

Hair red as fire tied in a high ponytail, eyes of a dark shade of green, a well-defined bone structure, Pamela had an intriguing set of features. Her body was lean, muscular, and was slowly beginning to blossom into a womanly figure. Her beauty was not the most obvious nor the most conventional. However, it was hard to look at her with indifference. She was still young, but every step she took exuded strength, power, and pride.

She was the daughter of a high-ranked warrior, a noblewoman, Lilian- well-known for her merciless combat skills. Amazon mothers rarely showed any form of affection towards their children. Love was for them a very abstract notion, a word brought to them by outside world habitants, pointless and irrational. It was a laughable concept, a sign of weakness. The Amazons did not love. They did not waste time on such futilities. Their filial bond was built on mutual respect and on the understanding that family was more important than one's individual needs

Pamela had always been the best of her classes. Her well-developed intellect had made her very arrogant. There was always a witty remark ready to slip out of her mouth. She made a habit of defying authority, something her mother did not approve. Her fiery personality was both the object of admiration and disapprobation as many did not like the lack of respect she showed to her superiors. She was also one of the finest equestrians of her age and her arrows never missed their targets. Ironically, her weakest point was her fencing skills. She spent most of her free time working on them with Harleen, the best fencer of their age group. In exchange, she would teach her how to read. The younger girl had never had access to books because she came from one of the lowest ranked family of the city of Myrina.

Years before she was born, her great-grand-mother had run away with someone from the outside world They wed in a small village. Outside world people lived by a different set of rules. Women in those lands were like shadows. They did not have an active role in their society. Most of them stayed at home to take care of their children while their husbands interacted in the public sphere. They did not own a political voice nor could they fight for the safety of their people.

Foolish was the one that said love could conquer all.

It did not take long before Harleen's ancestor realized how much she had sacrificed to live by her husband's side. Bitterness, resentment, and eventually anger started obscuring her thoughts. The husband she once loved soon became source of frustration. She felt completely stripped down of all power and she couldn't help but to blame him for it. Their cultures were two mismatches pieces of puzzle. She did not belong in his world. She missed her sisters and, most of all, she missed being someone instead of somebody's. The day she found out she was pregnant was one of the most dreadful moments of her life. She could not bare the idea of seeing her daughter raised as an outside world woman. She ran away during the night on one of their horses. She came back to the Amazons. She was perfectly aware that she would become a pariah for what she had done, but even the lowest ranked Amazon had more social power than any outside world woman. Harleen lived with the shame her great-grand-mother had cast upon a family. However, swordswoman skills had impressed her teachers. Rumour was that, once she would first bleed, she would most be trained to become one of the queen’s body guards.

Pamela and Harleen's relationship was extremely unbalanced. The noble girl had a very assertive personality and was rarely refused anything. She strongly dominated their interactions, but she was warm and kind to her friend. They were as close as two people in their positions could be.

Every day, Harleen would come and wake her friend up before the rise of the sun. They would hide by the merchant's area in a small alley and Pamela would practice her fencing skills with the help of her lower-ranked companion.

One morning that seemed not unlike any other day, Harleen slipped through one of the windows of Pamela's chamber a little before dawn in order to wake her up for their training session. As quiet as the night, she crossed the room with swiftness, stopping at a step's distance from the sleeping form. The moonlight was reflected on one side of Pamela's face, conferring an unusual softness to her features. She seemed oddly vulnerable in her sleep.

For some unknown reason, Harleen felt suddenly stricken by the other girl's beauty. A strange emotion slipped into her heart as she was able to see a side of her friend that she had never known existed before. Her hand reached forward, brushing against the skin of the sleeping girl's forehead as the pushed aside a stray strand of hair. She let her fingers linger there a few seconds. She was about to pull her hand away when her wrist was roughly caught into a strong grasp. She barely had the time to register what was happening that she was pinned down to Pamela's bed, a small dagger pressed against her throat.

She gasped, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in pure shock. Pamela was straddling her forcefully, glaring at her through slanted eyes. Her mouth was curled into a snarl and her breath was ragged. It didn't take long before she realized that she was in the presence of her friend. An expression of confusion and annoyance washed over her features.

She growled.

"What were you thinking Harleen, touching me like that!" She pulled back her dagger. "I could have killed you!"

Harleen closed her eyes, a heavy sigh escaping her mouth. Her head was swirling. Adrenaline was still coursing through her body. She could feel the weight of her friend pressing down on her pelvis. The sensation was unexpectedly pleasant. Pamela bent down, her red curls falling forward and her face hovering a few inches away from her friend’s. She searched Harleen’s features for answers, trying to understand her strange behaviour. Amazons did not touch one another unless they were fighting. It did not make sense to her that the lower-ranked girl would choose to do something so imprudent. 

"Did you not hear me or did the cat catch your tongue?"

At her friend's words, Harleen opened her eyes. A flush colouring her pale cheeks at Pamela’s sight. Her mouth was dry, her breath was short, and she was feeling deeply confused.

"I...I..." She swallowed hard. "I don't know."

The noble girl huffed and rolled her eyes. She was about to get off the bed and search for a proper attire to start her day when she felt hesitant hands take hold of her hips.

"Wait!" Harleen furrowed her brows.

"What?" She barked, more regal than ever.

Harleen opened her mouth trying to find the right words to express how she felt, but she did not know how to define it. Instead, she moved her hands up her friend's midriff, daringly exploring the unknown territory. A shiver coursed down Pamela's spine. Before that moment, the only physical contact she had known was the punitive force of her mother's strike. Her mouth parted slightly as she was overtaken by the overwhelming sensation of being touched with tenderness for the first time.

"Can I hold you against me?" Harleen asked in a pleading voice, arms wrapping around the noble's girl waist. Pamela tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful manner. She had sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something in this interaction was wrong, but she now longed to bask into the marvellous feeling of being embraced with affection. She worried her bottom lip as she contemplated the idea. Her red hair was still dishevelled. Her eyes were still filled with sleep. Her hesitance was obvious. She looked young, small, and a bit lost.

An unusual sight.

Harleen felt disappointed when her friend pulled away from her. A feeling of loss creeping inside her heart as she watched her friend walk towards the other side of the room. She pulled her muscular legs against her chest and propped her chin against her knees, her ponytail now falling pathetically to the side. Part of her wanted to insist, but she knew that it wasn't her place to do so. She was the daughter of a guard and her friend was a noble girl. It had been arrogant of her to make such a demand in the first place.

Pamela came back a few seconds later. She propped a hand on the mattress of her bed then one of her knees. She leaned crawled toward her friend, mirth dancing in her green coloured eyes.

"Look at you! You're such a child. You can't even tie your hair right." She gently undid her friend's golden locks, putting her hair tie on the nightstand next to her bed.

Harleen stared at her with eyes wide open, unsure of how she was supposed to react. A small chuckle escaped the noble girl's lips.

"I locked the door," she said with a wink, the corner of her mouth turning into a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"It means that the answer to your question is yes. Yes, you can hold me until the sun rises then I'll kick you out of my room and we will go through our day as usual."

She lifted the cover of her bed, one of her eyebrows curving upward in an imperative manner.

"Get in there, lay down!" She commanded. When her friend seemed settled, Pamela curled around her body, resting her head in the crook of her neck.

"Don't tell this to anyone."

"I won't." Harleen replied with unhindered amusement.

Pamela lifted her head and stared down at her friend with obvious mistrust.

"I won't." Harleen insisted, her voice coming out as a whisper.

The noble girl released a breath, nodding slightly before lying back down.

She shifted a little, grunting and sighing. She finally settled for wrapping her leg around her friend's, her left hand digging almost painfully into her shoulder.

"This is nice," Harleen murmured. She reached out for her friend's fingers, releasing her shoulder from her grasp, and taking her hand into her own.

"Stop talking."


	2. Death

"She had been hiding a male lover in the city of Myrina for months," Harleen overheard Diana whispering into Pamela’s ear. "They were found together by her daughter. Celaneo killed him on the spot, saving her family’s honor, but it was too late for Thalestris."

  
The fiery redhead nodded somberly, her brows furrowing as she processed the information. She glanced backward. Their eyes met and Harleen swallowed hard, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks at her friend’s intense gaze.

  
"I never would have guessed," Pamela replied, her stare returning to the spectacle in front of them. A few feet away from them, Thalestris held her head as high as a woman forced to kneel could. "She fought alongside our mothers in the great Atlantean war. I grew up on stories of her exploits."

  
"Mhm," Diana murmured pensively, her arms crossing over her chest and her chin tilting up. She looked every inch of the queen she would one day become. "Pamela, you have the strength of a warrior and the mind of a brilliant strategist, but your naivety never ceases to amaze me. You should know by now that treason may come from our closest allies."

  
A few years older than her conversation partner, Diana was the monarch’s sole daughter. Heir to the thrown, she carried the weight of the world on her broad shoulders.

  
Never once in her life had the princess spared a look at Harleen. They evolved in different circles. Pamela, on the other hand, was Diana’s long-time friend or, at the very least, interacted with her on a regular basis.

  
"May Artemis allow Thalestris’ death to be quick and painless…" A breath brushed against the shell of Harleen’s ear.

  
She shrieked, suddenly noticing the presence by her side. Selina was a young metic woman a few years her elder. She roamed the city, free of most responsibilities imposed on Amazon women. Harleen found herself often torn between envying her freedom and pitying her lack of opportunities.

  
"Well, well, well, look at that, our gracious princess came out of her ivory tower to mix with us, plebeian." Selina’s full lips were curled into a cynical smile. "What a benevolent soul!"

  
Harleen giggled.

  
"I hate how she stands so ridiculously straight," she commented on Diana’s posture, but her eyes were following Pamela’s movement. The noble girl was still in a deep conversation with the princess and, while Harleen knew her place, there was something about their interaction that made her wish she could join them.

  
Selina followed her gaze.

  
"Right…" She stated, a frown settling across her features. She opened her mouth to speak, but words died in the back of her throat as a silence as heavy as death fell over the crowd.

  
"Hippolyta!" Harleen gasped, quickly silenced by Selina’s murderous glare.

  
The queen was walking through the crowd. Harleen took a deep breath, taking in the sight, a sea of people slowly parting at the speed of a wave rushing to break against the shore.

  
She spun her head around to look in her friend’s direction, taking a sharp inhale when she crossed Pamela’s unreadable stare for the second time that evening. She held her gaze, heart slamming against her chest, the reality of the moment hitting her with blunt force. The fiery redhead inclined her head. This time around choosing to acknowledge her presence from afar.

  
"Harleen…" Selina’s voice was barely audible, but she grasped her hand, squishing it with surprising strength. Harleen squeezed it back, surprised to feel nails digging into her skin.

  
A few feet away, Hippolyta marched between her subjects. While she stood alongside her subjects in battle, she rarely came out of her palace in days of peace. Harleen had never been in such proximity to the queen. From this distance, she could see the battle scar that ran across the middle of her forehead to the upper portion of her cheek. She was impossibly tall and muscular, a goddess of war among humans, carved in the image of Athena. The dark mane falling in waves down her back was the only crown she needed.

  
"Hippolyta’s belt…" Selina released Harleen’s moist palm and took a step forward, her eyes filled with an eagerness her companion had never witnessed before. "The belt that could win all wars, gifted by Ares to Myrina when she defeated the Atlanteans..."

  
The woman glanced over her shoulder, meeting her younger friend’s gaze.

  
"I grew up by the Nile, in a land faraway from here." She murmured so low Harleen had to stretch forward to hear her. "I was raised with different gods and different traditions, but, even in the streets of Alexandria, there were rumours…"

  
"Rumours?" Harleen squealed loud enough to attract the attention of several of her peers.

  
Selina stared at her with shock, her jaw clenching and her nostrils flaring.

  
"Sorry," the young warrior mumbled.

  
She received no reply. Her companion had redirected her attention to the front of the crowd where Hippolyta stood tall, her long shadow looming over Thalestris. The proud warrior’s head was now inclined in a sign of deference.

" Thalestris," the queen’s voice carried across the crowd like thunder. "Rise on your feet, sister!"

  
Thalestris stood up. She was everything a warrior wished to be. The perfect combination of strength and agility. War had shaped her. War was all she knew, but there she was, standing in front of her sisters, waiting for her impending death.

  
" Thalestris, today you stand in front of your sisters accused of a capital crime, a crime of high treason," Hippolyta took a pause, glancing at Celaneo who stood a few feet away with a frown on face and her arms crossed over he chest. "You hid a-" the queen snarled. "A man between the walls of Myrina!"

  
"How could you!" Celaneo yelled, spitting at her mother’s feet. "How dared you do this to-"

  
Hippolyta raised a hand, interrupting her.

  
"What is your response to these accusations?" The queen stated, looking at her warrior straight in the eyes. "Speak."

  
"It is all true," Thalestris replied, standing her ground just as fiercely as she once had on the battlefield.

  
" Thalestris," Hippolyta hissed, both of her hands moving to rest on her hips. "You broke Amazonian law and you shall now be judged by your peers."

A murmur quickly spread across the crowd. Women of all age and height were now whispering to each other.

  
"This isn’t fair…" Harleen mumbled under her breath. "She was just-She must have just cared for him-She just cared for the wrong person."  
Selina laughed humourlessly, shaking her head with exasperation.

  
"Harleen," she purred, pressing her hand down on the blonde’s shoulder. "You of all people should know there is nothing fair about this world."

  
The young warrior glanced at Pamela. The noble girl was exchanging words with the princess by her side, her hands moving with animation while Diana nodded with vehemence. As if sensing her gaze, the red head peered at her through her lashes. The smile that drew itself on her lips was akin to pity.

  
Harleen sighed.

  
"We deserve the shame casted upon our family," She growled. "My great-grand-mother never should have run away from her duty."

  
"If you say so…"

  
It was then that the queen’s hand rose, closing itself into a fist. Silence fell upon the crowd.

  
"Thalestris, you stand accused of high treason. Our law state that it is a crime punishable by death. The crowd has deliberated. Your sisters will now decide your faith."

  
Celaneo’s arm rose high and proud, quickly imitated by a few others. It was not long before Diana reluctantly put her own hand up, gathering the support of a large portion of the Amazon standing behind her. Pamela took a deep breath before lifting hers as well. Harleen followed suit.

  
Selina’s hands curled into fists.

  
"You, Harleen, are a fool," she snarled, quickly turning on her feet and disappearing into the crowd.

  
"The Amazons have spoken," Hippolyta said, once a majority of hands had risen. "Thalestris, you are guilty."

  
Thalestris accepted her faith with an impassible nod, acquiescing to her sentence like only a true warrior would.

  
" Thalestris," the queen spoke again. "You were once one of the greatest warriors in our ranks. You will be forever remembered as such. There is no doubt that your name will carry through the ages. Thus, I will allow you one last favor in recognition of your years of services.

  
"I only ask be to be given the privilege of leaving of my own volition," the warrior stood straight, staring into her monarch’s eyes.

  
Hippolyta remained quiet for minutes that felt like an eternity, never breaking eye contact.

  
Then, against all odds, bowed her head, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second.

  
"May Artemis allow your death to be quick and painless!" She exclaimed, stepping out of the way.

  
Thalestris walked to the edge of the cliff that was used for such executions. She stood there for a moment or two, proud and beautiful, the last rays of sunshine shimmering across her armor.

  
And, in a last act of courage, the warrior plunged to her death.


	3. Unfair

"I truly despise when Diana patronizes me," Pamela was running her hand through Harleen’s hair, revelling at its silky quality. She had been working on braiding her friend’s golden locks for the past hour and a half, never satisfied of the result.

"I truly haaaaate when the priiiiincesss patronizes me!" Harleen mimicked.

Pamela dropped her friend’s braid. Her hand flew upward. For a moment, Harleen thought she would hit her, but it came down just as quickly as it had risen, smacking the redhead’s upper thigh, painting streaks of red across her pale skin.

"She used to come here," the noble girl went on, her nails running up and down her thighs, leaving angry marks in their trail.

Harleen sprung to her feet and started pacing around her Pamela’s balcony. The air was fresh, and a soft breeze was running through the curtains leading to her friend’s room. She could vaguely discern the bed they sometimes shared.

"The princess used to come to your room?" She finally chocked out.

Pamela’s features went from being turned into a pensive frown to a look of utter confusion. Her pale skin seemed almost diaphanous in the moonlight and her impractical wild mane made her look almost feral. The flowers Harleen had weaved through her hair seem to be growing out of the depth of a luxurious forest. She looked like a wood nymph from the stories Amazon elders used to tell around campfires.

"Why would Diana come to my room?" She shook her head, red curls bouncing against her chest.

"I don’t know." Harleen took a few steps towards her friend, her red lips twisted into a pout. "Why do I come to your room?"

"On most days, you come to get me for our early training sessions…" Pamela shrugged, stating the obvious. Harleen’s braid was slowly unravelling and it was all the noble girl could focus on. "And I suppose you call on me sometimes like you just did this evening."

Pamela indicated the spot Harleen had vacated when she made her spontaneous outburst.

"Stop moving!" She scolded. "I was not done braiding your hair. I swear to Gaia, you have less patience than an undisciplined child."

Harleen sighed exasperatedly, flopping down between her friend’s long legs. Pamela reached forward with eagerness, untangling the mess the other girl had just made.

"I am not impatient," the blonde whined. "You are just taking so long!"

Pamela froze, her hands dropping at her sides.

"I have been taking my time because it feels good," she cleared her throat.

She pulled her legs back, ignoring the pain in her knees to hide her calves between the bars of the chair she was sitting on.

"Braiding my hair?" Harleen giggled.

"Among other things," Pamela licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. The noble girl, usually so eloquent, could not find the right words to express her thoughts. While she could speak of war for hours, she could not fathom a concept that could accurately describe her experience. "It feels good when we are close."

Harleen turned around, propping both of her elbows on her friend’s thighs, cupping her own chin with her hands. She remained surprisingly quiet for a while, looking down at her friends tangled fingers. Then, she tilted her chin up to stare at her soft-looking lips, slowly moving her gaze up to her down casted eyes.

She jumped off the ground- all of a sudden, moving forward to straddle Pamela’s legs, lowering down unto her laps.

"You like being close to me," she muttered in the redhead’s ear. "You like being close like that?"

This time around, the redhead threw a punch at her, light but precise, straight into her solar plexus. Harleen folded in two, fingers digging into Pamela’s shoulders as she gasped for air.

"Those training sessions are starting to pay off," the blonde managed to breathe out after a while.

"Mhm," Pamela hummed.

Harleen nuzzled her hair, choosing to ignore her friend’s mood in favor of breathing her in.

"I was talking about Thalestris- earlier, I was talking about her. She used to come to our house." Pamela mumbled, changing the topic out of the blue. She was looking straight down at Harleen’s white thigh. The blonde’s chiton had ridden up, revealing old and recent scars. The noble girl grasped at the skin of her upper thigh, pinching it lightly at first then a little more forcefully, staring with fascination as it turned a bright shade of red. "My greatest wish as child was to grow up to be like her."

She moved her hand a little lower, repeating the same motion, her nails digging into the blonde’s skin.

She stopped when a low moan escaped Harleen’s lips, her own breath suddenly falling short. She closed her eyes wrapping her arms around the smaller girl’s waist and pulling her impossibly close.

"I don’t understand why she had to die," the Harleen breathed out against her friend’s cheek.

Pamela threw her head back, pressing both of her hands against her friend’s chest to put some distance between them. She curled her right hand into a fist, holding the blonde backward with her forearm. Her green eyes searched Harleen’s.

"It seems pretty self-explanatory to me," she hissed, her eyes slanting slightly and her brows furrowing. She exhaled, shoving Harleen off of her. Her voice grew higher when she spoke again. "She brought a man inside the city, putting her sisters at risk."

She walked towards the edge of her balcony, her fingers clenching over the railing. The blonde followed her, twirling swiftly to press her back against the baluster.

"But how is it a risk? It’s only one man."

Pamela pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath before turning fully towards the other girl.

"You don’t get it, Harleen. It’s not him who is dangerous. It is the concept that is dangerous. If we let a man roam free around the city, that would mean all men should be allowed to walk free between our walls." The redhead pointed at the city of Myrina stretching below them. "It goes against the foundation of our society."

Silence fell upon them.

"I see what you mean, " Harleen replied after a while, reaching forward to take the noble girl’s closest hand between hers and running her thumbs over her fingers. "I do-But it just seems so unfair sometimes. Don’t you think it’s unfair?"

Pamela’s jaw tightened and her shoulders slumped forward. She looked down at the rare torches illuminating the streets below. 

Guards were walking down the main street, shoulders straight and heads held high.

"I would rather take this life over being one of those outside world women," she replied through clenched teeth. She pressed her thumb over both of Harleen’s, putting an end to her gentle ministrations to pull her close. "I belong to no one and I have everything I want within my grasp."

The blonde smiled throwing her arms around the other girl’s neck.

"And what do you want?" She asked, giggling. Pamela gave her hips a light squeeze.

"I want you to sit down and to stop squirming," She replied with a smirk. "I still haven’t finished braiding your hair."


	4. Perspective

"Don’t touch that!" Selina smacked Harleen’s hand away from the tablet she had been poking at. Harleen straightened up. "It’s a scripture written by Enheduanna, High Priestess of the goddess Inanna and first known poet of our world, it’s worth more than your life."

Harleen had come to visit Selina. Something about their last exchange had left her uneasy and she could not put her finger on what it was. Her mind kept on reeling which fueled her desire to spend time in Pamela’s comforting presence, something she could not realistically do. She spent a few days in that state of mind before deciding to show up on her friend’s doorstep.

She was ushered in by Selina, who accompanied her invitation to come in with a nonchalant hand gesture and an eyeroll.

Selina, like most metics, was a merchant. There were not much more other opportunities for immigrants as they were not allowed to participate into politics nor to join the army. In a military-state, it reduced your options quite a bit, yet Selina had managed to establish a reputation for herself. She was by far the richest merchant of the Myrina. She lived in a luxurious house in an isolated area. She had come to the city a few years earlier as a teenager. Harleen did not know how exactly she had come to join the Amazons nor how she had managed to build such a fortune. There was an air of mystery about her which she seemed to cultivate with pride.

"Who would want to buy a scripture?"

A black cat slipped between the young warrior’s legs, speeding out of the room as quickly as it had appeared.

"Romans," the merchant replied, a contemptuous smile stretching across her lips. "They enjoy pretending they have culture by appropriating everyone else’s."

Harleen nodded, feigning interest when in reality she had no idea what the brunette meant.

"Can I interest you in some garden figs or perhaps some Roman wine?" Selina offered as she walked into the gynaeceum, indicating a seat to the blonde. "You don’t mind if I indulge?"

Selina tilted her head toward the cup of wine she had abandoned on the table when she had gotten up to put an end to the insistent knocking on her front door. The brunette sat down in front of the young warrior, crossing one leg over the other with practiced grace. When she was met with an uncomfortable silence, she took a sip of wine and drummed her fingers against the armrest of her chair.

"I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since we last saw each other," Harleen blurted out all of a sudden, a large smile spreading across her cheeks.

Selina stared at her with a dumbstruck expression, her lashes fluttering wildly. She pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze ran up Harleen’s form at a leisure pace, only stopping when their eyes made contact.

"I am flattered, Harleen," The merchant replied after a while, swirling her cup of wine around before swinging back its content with a large gulp. "Really, I am. And I would be lying if I were to say it hadn’t crossed my mind a few times, but you are a little too youthful and virginal for me. I mean, sure, if I were particularly lonely one evening and you were to come here wearing your armor. We were to take a few cups of wine and then one us- let’s say, you -were to possibly lean in-"

"Wow! I wasn’t thinking about…that, but now I most certainly am!" Harleen squealed, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "But, no, no, that’s not what I meant-Wow, uhm- No, I wanted to talk about Thalestris’ execution!"

"What about it?" The black cat that had scampered away a little earlier, materialized behind Selina. It jumped straight unto her laps and rubbed its forehead against her stomach. She smiled at it, running her long fingers across its fur. 

"You were upset," Harleen stated.

"Indeed," the merchant replied, catching her bangs between two fingers and pushing them to the side. "I was."

"Care to elaborate on that?" Harleen leaned forward, grabbing the amphora on the low table between them and pouring herself a cup of wine. "I am going to take some of this."

"What is it to you?" Selina asked, non-committedly. Her face was now inclined towards the cat as though she was speaking to it. She had taken to playing a catch the mouse game with her finger, grinning whenever the cat would get close to grasping it with its paw.

"I was talking with Pamela-" the blonde started, squirming a little on her seat. "Pamela is my friend. She is my closest friend, as a matter of fact. People say she could become one of the greatest warriors of our generation if she manages to improve a little on her fencing skills. She is the brightest person I know. She is brilliant. And, see, we were talking-"

As she spoke, Harleen’s excitement grew to the point where she spilled a bit of wine, much to Selina’s grievance.

"Oh, for the sake of Aphrodite! Where is this going?" The black cat used its owner’s momentary inattentiveness to grasp her finger between its paws and gnawed at it. "Your infatuation with your friend seems bordering on obsessive and I still I do not grasp what any of this has to do with me."

"I am not obsessed. You just don’t know her. You would be saying the same thing if you did. And I am getting to it! Just let me finish!" Harleen got up on her feet, spooking Selina’s cat. The poor creature jumped out of the merchant’s lap and scampered through the hallway. "That evening, I had a conversation with Pamela about the execution and she got really irritated. But I simply mentioned that I didn’t understand why Thalestris had to die." The blonde was now standing next to her seat. She propped one of her feet against the armrest and put it back down when she received a glare from the older woman. "She thinks what Thalestris did threatens our way of life and says we can’t allow that. It completely makes sense. She is absolutely right. I can see why she would think that way because Pamela is really focused. She has defined goals. When she thinks something is important, she will put everything into place in order to make it happen. When she thinks something is wrong, she will do everything she can do to stop it. It is amazing. That is why she is such a great leader. I think she would have made a great queen."

Selina exhaled through her nostrils and reached for her amphora, pouring herself her third cup of the evening. She stretched her long legs and propped them against the table. Her free arm wrapped itself around her midriff as she took a sip of wine. The loose curl she had pulled out of her face earlier had sprung back against the middle of her forehead. The kohl around her eyes was a tad meshed after a day of wear and, while she regularly swiped her tongue against her lips and teeth, they were both starting to turn a little red from the wine.

"But deep down, there is something inside me that tells me that it’s wrong-" Harleen took a deep breath before finishing. "I think Pamela may be wrong."

"What separates right from wrong is always a matter of perspective and of convenience," Selina replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean?"

The young warrior tilted her head to the side, her long golden locks spilling over her shoulder. She could smell the first hints of spring coming through the gynaeceum’s window. It was an odor that had always reminded her of Pamela. The beautiful red-haired noble, unlike Harleen, had grown up wealthy in would sometimes bathe in basins of milk and flowers. It was a rare luxury, but Harleen appreciated the scent it left on her friend’s skin. 

"Look, I grew up with a different set of rules. Nothing in this execution made sense to me. Where I come from, boys, men, they are allowed to live. They work. They get married. They contribute to society. I met terrible men like I met great ones. This execution made no sense to me because, at the end of the day, I don’t think what Thalestris did was wrong. To me, it seems like a futile reason to execute someone. And, with what I have learned through my travels and mostly here-if you would believe, I now also think a lot what is considered a punishable offenses where I grew up shouldn’t be." The brunette took a pause to fold one her legs underneath her and to drink from her wine. Harleen pushed her hair behind her ears, waiting for the rest with very little patience. "It is all a question of perspective. This friend of yours, for example, her perspective on this situation is obvious. She is a true Amazon, probably content to follow the rules that were set for her because she is satisfied with them. Maybe, they even work in her favor, who knows?"

Selina’s green eyes reached deep within her soul when she added, "the real question is what is your perspective on this situation?"


	5. Springtime

"Pamela!"

Pamela had the nebulous impression that a voice was calling her name from somewhere within her vicinity.

"Pam!"

She felt her bed dip and a presence looming over her. A hand ran through her hair. She curled into a foetus position, pulling the bear hide she was buried in over her shoulder, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Oh, Pammy…" The hand, she now identified as Harleen’s, had moved from her hair to her forehead. It slid against her cheeks, pushing humid curls of red away from her clammy skin. "You’re all sweaty and you look a little green!"

She felt nauseous.

Pamela was born with a strange form of sensitivity to the world around her. She had taken notice of it at an early age. It was hard to define. She sensed things other people did not. It was not clear to her what exactly she was sensitive to, but she sometimes felt things. Sometimes she heard things.

She did not know how and why this gift had been bestowed upon her.

She suspected it was something that had been passed down by her nameless father, a curse possibly. The head of her spear was sharp, and the warrior knew how to be convincing. Had he still been alive, she would have found a way to squeeze the information out of him. But there was no more honorable death for a man than to give life to an Amazon warrior and Pamela was satisfied with his sacrifice.

Every year, as spring came around, her body seemed to come alive. It was an overwhelming feeling. It took root at the tip of her toes. It would grow through her body, creeping up her spine, and sending shivers down her neck. As years passed by, the feeling got stronger. It slowly became close to overpowering, leaving her feverish and delirious. It would come in waves. At first, it would hit her for minutes, then hours, and, eventually, she would lay down in bed for days until the feeling culminated, reaching full bloom on the first day of Artemis’ spring festival.

Eyes closed, Pamela reached one of her hands towards the voice grasping at what appeared to be linen, the skirt of a chiton-most likely. She fisted the material, the fabric bunching into her hand.

"Pam! You need to get out from under this!" The voice now sounded alarmed. "You are drenched!"

"Mhm," she whined when she felt the bear hide being pulled off of her body. She scrunched her nose and buried her face into her friend’s skirt.

"Pam, Pam," she heard the blonde whisper, worriedly. Pamela’s whole body was shaking. A hand grasped the sickly red-haired woman by the calf, squeezing it lightly. "What’s going on?"

Pamela rolled unto her back, her wild mane of red sprawling across her pillow. She loosened her grip over Harleen’s clothes, her leg slipping out of the other girl’s grasp.

Her respiration pattern was slow and uneven. Her mind was fuzzy, and she felt as though she could hurl at any moment.

"I am here for you, Red. I’ll always be there for you."

She barely registered a small finger interlacing with her pinkie- a touch so light it could have easily gone unnoticed-before dozing off.

***

Pamela was startled awake by a loud whisper.

_Darkness._

She woke up in the middle of what appeared to be an unnaturally lush forest.

_Soon._

Her back was pressed against the bark of a tree. She could feel the protruding edges of its sinuous wrinkles, digging into her skin.

_Death._

She gasped, breathing in a large gulp of air. The voices were multiplying.

_It’s coming._

Hundreds. Thousands. Millions

_Mother._

Where was she?

_She’s here._

Her surroundings felt both outlandish and familiar.

_Mother. Mother. Mother. Mother. Mother._

The voices were getting overwhelmingly loud.

_Save us._

She pressed her hands over her ears and shut her eyes closed, a strange mixture of deep seeded anger and elation taking over her.

***

She found Harleen laying next to her. The blonde was snoring lightly and slobbering all over Pamela’s favourite pillow. The red-haired teenager smiled, hiding her face against the pillow she was laying on. She propped her elbow against the mattress, rising to an almost half-seated position. She reached forward and ran her hand through curls of gold. A chuckle escaped her lips when her fingers got caught into a tangle of knots.

Pamela had gone through two hundred and twenty-two moon cycles throughout her life yet never had she seen a sight as moving as the one that laid before her. The redhead’s mother was cold and ruthless. Most Amazons were. And Pamela was well aware that she was not always the easiest person to be around. She had an imposing personality, to say the least. Most of the people surrounding her were either intimidated by her temper or were simpletons attracted to the power she exuded.

Harleen was different.

She believed in her in a way that felt earnest. She felt warm and safe in a world that was harsh and cold, a little ray of sunshine in the midst of a storm. While she could be described as easily distracted and- quite frankly- exhausting, she was loyal to a fault, a quality Pamela believed they both shared.

Pamela ran her thumb across Harleen’s apple round cheek, following the delicate curves of her face. She smirked when she heard the blonde take a shockingly loud inhale in her sleep. The proud red-haired warrior shifted slightly. She pressed a light kiss against the curve of her jaw, lingering there before slithering to the edge of the bed.

A shiver ran down her spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The material of her chiton was humid. She could feel it sticking to her skin. She pitter-pattered across the floor. She opened her wardrobe and picked a green tunic. She slid out of her sleepwear and unto dryer clothes, already feeling much more warmer and comfortable.

She moved towards a small table in the corner of the room. Predicting that she would once again wake up dehydrated, she had asked her servant to leave a jug of water in her bedroom earlier that day. She poured herself a cup and gulped it down in the matter of seconds.

She was about take a second cup of water when she heard Harleen calling for her.

"Pam?"

The blonde’s voice as hoarse with sleep. Pamela walked back towards the bed, dragging her jug of water and her cup with her. She set them both on the nightstand closest to Harleen.

"Mhmm?"

The redhead sat next to her friend, immediately bending forward to rest a hand on her friend’s stomach.

"What happened?" Harleen asked, chasing the sleep from her eyes with her fists. "What was that? You looked awful."

Pamela nodded and sank her white teeth into her plump lower lip, rolling it back and forth. She did not reply right away, choosing to polish down her second cup of water instead. She slammed it back down against the nightstand and let out a heavy exhale, her shoulder moving up and down as she did so . She snuck into the small space between Harleen and the outer edge of the mattress. She curled her head against her friend’s collarbone, her hand moving upward to play with the delicate bronze necklace in display against her chest.

Her breath brushed against the blonde’s skin when she finally spoke.

"I don’t know," she said. "It’s always been there. I have read everything I could on the topic, but I could find no answer to my questions."

She felt Harleen shift unto her side. The younger warrior’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against her.

Pamela’s froze, her breath catching inside her throat. Her tired body felt suddenly incredibly alive. She didn’t dare move. She closed her eyes, both extenuated and overwhelmed by her friend’s proximity. Her senses felt submerged with sensations. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. It was the most delightful yet excruciating feeling she had ever experienced.

When Harleen squeezed her even tighter, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. Heat rushed to her cheeks and unto a spot in the pit of her stomach.

A low moan slipped passed her lips.

"Are you okay now?" Harleen asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

Pamela could feel her breath becoming shallow. She shook her head in affirmation, unable to speak. Her friend smelled like grass and dirt roads. It was a comforting and familiar smell, but, as the redhead laid against her, still shaken by her feverish nightmare, it felt overpowering.

"Harl?" She let out in one heavy breath, her tone a little shaky.

"Yeah?" The blonde squealed, sounding a little nervous.

"You-You feel good."

The blonde moved against her, lowering her body until their forehead were pressed together and their gaze could meet.

"You feel good too."

A blinding smile stretched across Harleen’s face. Her pearly white teeth sank into her bottom lip. She leaned a little forward, her hand snaking up to rest against Pamela’s neck. Her Mediterranean blue eyes searched hers. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, the redhead’s eyelashes fluttered closed and she swallowed hard.

"Can I kiss you?" Harleen’s breath caressed her lips.

The red-haired warrior opened her eyes and stared at her friend, her pupils large and wide.

"I am sorry-I thought you-It felt like-I don’t know what I was-" The blonde started rambling.

Pamela surged forward, her lips pressing almost painfully against her friend’s. Their teeth clashed. Harleen stretched backward, giggling maniacally as the tension she had been feeling released from her shoulder with the absurdity of the moment.

Pamela’s frowned, her mouth twisting into a pout.

"Reeed," Harleen murmured with affection, poking at her friend’s cheek.

She pulled her in, dragging her bottom lip against the redhead’s before reaching forward to suck it in between her teeth. When she released it, Pamela let out a deep sigh.

"Your lip feels so full and juicy, like an end of the summer strawberry."

The smack Harleen received on the back of her head was well-deserved.


	6. To Steal, or Not to Steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to lie. While key points were planned out for this story, this chapter took a bit of an unexpected turn, possibly due to, well, confinement. It seems that, for some reason, I have to write Selina on crackfic mode.

"Selina!"

The short-haired brunette flipped around, the curls of her fringe bouncing freely against her forehead.

A sleazy smile turned the corner of her lips upward.

She knew Diana had been trying to catch her in the act for a while now, but the fact that the tall woman had managed to sneak up on her was beyond her comprehension. She was not known for being exactly subtle. She was brash and usually opted for brutish force over skillfully laid out plans.

"Her gracious Majesty, a sight to behold…" Selina circled the tall Amazon, running her hand across the expanse of her back until she reached the other side of her. She halted there, leaving it her hand to rest against the other woman’s shoulder. It was a feather-like touch, smooth, subtle, and somewhat enticing. "And here I thought mommy dearest didn’t allow you outside this late at night."

Diana almost leaned into it-almost, that is, because never did the princess strayed away from the path that had been laid down for her. At least, that is what she tried to convince herself. Instead, she stood there with her back straight and her arms crossed over her chest.

"I have had my eyes on you for a while, Selina." The smaller brunette ran her free hand through her short curly hair and cocked one of her hips to the side. The smile on her face spread wider. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off short by Diana. The princess made a dismissive hand gesture, that was in great measure reminiscent of her mother, and rolled her eyes exasperatedly before adding, "I know I walked myself straight into it, but I am going to stop you right there. I meant to say that I have been watching you and I know you are up to no good."

A sound between a huff and a snort slipped from between Selina’s lips.

"Oh, grandiose princess of ours, may I dare make a minor correction here?" The princess’ death stare led her to believe that said correction was not particularly welcomed. "I believe if one were to get technical, they would say you walked sapphically into it."

Diana glowered and took a threatening step forward, her tall frame allowing her to tower over the other woman. The wind was wild that evening and her long hair was flowing over her shoulder, a few loose strands whipping from time to time against her cheek. She looked every bit as dangerous as Selina knew she could be.

"Why the innuendos, Selina?" Selina shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling with nonchalance. Her hand dropped from Diana’s shoulder, the pad of her fingers tracing the lines of her bicep. She squeezed the princess’s arm firmly, her thumb lingering against smooth skin, before pulling her hand away. "If I didn’t know any better I would say that you are trying to divert my attention from the fact that I just found you hiding on the roof of the palace, right by my mother’s quarters."

"To be fair, your radiant Majesty," Selina snickered. The princess’ brows furrowed, and she pressed her lips into a tight line. She was not amused. "Your mother is quite the beauty…"

Diana growled, moving forward with a menacing stance. She grabbed Selina by the collar and lifted her off the ground, shoving her against the wall and holding her up there.

"I know you are lying, Selina," she hissed through clenched teeth. "And, Dike be my witness, I’ll get the truth out of you, one way or the other."

Selina trashed a little against Diana’s grip. The princess pressed into her, squishing her forcefully against the wall. The short haired brunette could not help but to smirk when she noticed the other woman’s face was hovering at a hair-width distance from hers. She could tell she would get a few bruises from the force of the impact. There was a feeling of soreness that was starting to irradiate from a sport around the middle portion of her upper back. But it would have been hypocritical of her to say that part of her did not enjoy the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Selina was aroused.

"Diaaana, is that your kink? You enjoy when I let you take over, don’t you?" she purred, her hands slithering through the taller woman’s thick mane of hair. She tugged at it roughly, taking deep pleasure at the sight of the princess’ discernable shiver. She used her grip on Diana’s hair as leverage to pull her forward. Her hot breath brushed against the princess’s ear when she whispered, "You need to feel like the woman in charge? I bet you’re dying to pat my tunic down to check if I stole something. That is what you are accusing me of, am I right? Stealing from your mother?"

Diana clenched her jaw, but she did not pull back from her. Selina couldn’t tell it was out of fear of watching her escape from her grasp or if the princess simply enjoyed their proximity. She settled on assuming it was both.

One thing was certain, the princess sky-blue eyes were seething with barely contained anger.

"But go ahead, explore my body, I am more than happy to oblige," Selina went on, taking a brief moment of pause to brush her lips against the underside of Diana’s jaw, her voice a purposefully low and breathless hashed whisper. "Yet I fear to disappoint, my princess, because you’ll find nothing more than the curves my mother gave me. But you will see, I’ll be a good compliant girl while you go through your power trip. Just for you, just for tonight because I am in the mood for it."

Diana closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose, trying to gather all the tiny fragments of patience she could muster. She decreased her grip a little, lowering the other woman unto the ground. She remained pressed against her nonetheless, keeping her arms locked around Selina’s sides.

"Are you always like this?" She asked. Selina’s hand was still in her hair, now running through it delicately like one would run their fingers through the fur of a house cat. The princess leaned into her touch, unconsciously. "You have got to be the most insufferable person I have ever met."

"Sooo…" Selina was surprised by how throaty her voice suddenly sounded and at the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was wet too, terribly so. Diana’s body felt powerful against hers. She could feel her muscles through the fabric of their clothes, and it was starting to impair her judgement like a wine head rush. "Are you going to check if I have anything on me?"

Selina took one of Diana’s hands and brought it up to her collarbone. She slid it slowly down towards her breast, moving the princess hand across the fabric straining there, making sure to let her thumb brush against skin. She stopped her motion, a little taken aback by how fast her heart was beating beneath the taller woman’s fingers.

Diana’s eyes were lowered, her gaze transfixed, unable to move away from her thumb resting against the curve of the thief’s breast. Selina could see through her lashes that the princess was staring at the rise and fall of her chest.

"See what I mean," Selina took a deep shuttering inhale, the curve of her breast fully pressing unto Diana’s palm. "There’s nothing but delightful curves under this tunic, but feel free to look for whatever you believe I could have taken from the palace."

The tall warrior snapped out of her daze and shook her head. Her blue eyes met Selina’s, her gaze suddenly soft and warm. The smile Diana gave her was sweet and genuine.

"Despite what you might think, Selina," Diana cleared her throat. "I don’t enjoy abusing my power nor do I condone such practices. I believe that justice must be handed with fairness or, at the very least, with good intentions."

She was about to pull her hand away when Selina reached for it and held it there.

"I am asking you than, search me," Selina insisted with a firm voice, pushing the princess’ hand further against her. She hesitated before using the other woman’s real name again in order to appear more convincing. "-Diana, clear me out and we will both walk away with our heads free of worries."

Diana swallowed audibly.

She brought her second hand up, letting it rest lightly against the suspect’s second breast. Selina released her hold on the princess, feeling confident that she had reached her goal.

The Amazon’s touch was excruciatingly light and respectful, still Selina had to bite down on her lip to hold back a moan when the princess’s index accidently brushed against her right nipple.

Diana’s eyes snapped back up.

"I am sorry," she mumbled.

"Don’t be," Selina replied, part of her wishing the other woman would be a little more forward.

The moved from her breasts to slide across the waistline of her tunic, checking for irregularities. Satisfied with her exploration, Diana lowered herself in a squatting position and her hands slid lower, reaching skirt level. Selina shifted slightly as Diana’s hand moved through the fabric, little by little, her movements repetitive and mechanic.

Selina looked down. The sight before her was intimidating, the princess almost kneeling down in front of her crotch.

Selina could smell her own arousal thus she was fairly certain the princess could as well.

"Nothing," Diana murmured as she stood back up, looking a little flustered and disappointed. She wiped her moist hands against the fabric of her clothes. "I am sorry for making you feel cornered like that. It was my mistake."

Selina nodded and readjusted her tunic. She moved a little forward to pat Diana’s cheek. She let her hand linger there before pulling her down to press a small kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I don’t blame you," she said, throwing a look over her shoulder as she walked away. "I am a beautiful woman after all."

Diana watched her as she ran to the edge of the building to jump on a lower level roof, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Something about all of this did not sit right with her. She might not have found anything on Selina, but her instinct told her something was wrong.


	7. Weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry for the delay!

"Hey, Androphile," Orithyia shouted above the crowd of apprentice guards, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Harleen stiffened a little, but she chose to ignore her, focusing instead on preparing her spear for the following morning. Lampedo and Marpesia were sharpening their blades at a few feet away from the ruthless warrior. They both sneaked glances in Harleen’s direction. Marpesia had, at the very least, the decency to shake her head a little in disapproval, but Lampedo was sporting a wide grin. It had been months since Harleen had started her training as a queen’s guard and Orithyia still never got tired of calling her names.

Orithyia was one of the most promising warriors of the city, but there was a sadistic trait to her. She enjoyed killing, more than most; she revelled in torturing her victims in any way possible. She was feared among her peers. Her head was shaved on both sides-showing off self-inflicted ritualic scars in Artemis’ honor, but she wore the rest of her black hair long. It fell down her back, tied into a surprisingly thick braid. She was as tall as a tree and bulkier than a bear, rumour was she could easily crack a skull open in the palm of her weakest hand.

Marpesia was a much softer looking woman, lean and graceful. She had the agility and the subtle speed of a doe, a gift elders attributed to Amazon’s primary goddess Artemis. The goddess’ sacred companion was tattooed across Marpesia’s thigh as a symbol of her connection to the great huntress. She was often found at the temple, performing her spiritual duty as a member of the city of Myrina’s chosen ones. Some said she sometimes could even communicate with the goddess herself on occasions. A lot believed that she would one day be chosen to become one of the temple’s priestesses.

Lampedo, on the other hand, was neither strong nor agile. She was, by all means, the weakest link of the trio. While she was really perseverant and focused, she never seemed to be able to make up for her genetic shortcomings.

Lampedo was bitter.

She was a bitter, yet ambitious young woman. She was known to surround herself with the absolute best warriors and thrived others’ failure.

She was weak.

Harleen hated her. She was everything she despised in a warrior. She often found herself daydreaming of how it would feel to slide one of her blades across her throat. It was a thought that brought her great pleasure and almost excitement. But murder was not a tolerable affair among Amazons and such ideas never went beyond the borders of her fantasies. Yet, every now and then, Harleen’s would lose herself in a daydream, her fingers dancing around the hem of her sword.

"Are you deaf or simply daft?" Orithya was at it again.

Lampedo snickered.

Harleen reached for her sword, her hand rubbing up and down against the handle.

"Enough," Marpesia stated. She took a few steps and put a hand over Orithya’s shoulder. "Chaos is not something a warrior should aspire to create."

Orithya swiveled from side to side, her long braid swinging against her back. Marpesia smiled, her soft features smoothing into an even gentler expression.

"Fine."

Orithya rolled her eyes.

Harleen stared at a column, shutting out the sound around her. She knew her place. She was not worth much. She deserved to be treated that way. She knew she did, but there were days she wished things were different.

Orithya collected her weapons and made her way toward the exit, walking by Harleen with the detached confidence of people whose authority is rarely challenged. Marpesia followed suit, her pale hair flying around her like a field of wheat waltzing to the soft tempo of a breeze.

Harleen wished things were different- yes, but the truth was that things already were. Her last conversation with Selina had left her mind filled with thoughts. All sorts of thoughts. All kinds of thoughts.

Lampedo, a little slower than her companions, ran her hand through her shortly cropped auburn hair. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her breath was a little short from her day of training. Under Harleen’s watchful gaze, she clumsily gathered her items. Her movements were slow and showed fatigue.

Harleen had begun to imagine a world beyond the borders her home city, beyond the borders of Amazon land. She had begun to imagine a world in which she didn’t have to follow rules, in which she could live free of all constraints.

Lampedo got slowly up, stretched her back, and started trailing a little further behind the other two warriors. Orithya and Marpesia were so far away, they could hardly be heard. Their voices were starting to fade in the distance.

"Tell me, Lampedo," Harleen’s voice slithered out of her throat like a piercing shrill. "Does it make you feel good?"

"What?"

Lampedo stopped dead on her track and glanced over her shoulder. The blonde noticed that sweat was dripping down her neck and unto her back. Lower down her body, one the muscles of her left calf was twitching.

Harleen threw her hand back and giggled.

"Does it make you feel good?" A loud shrieky laugh escaped pass the blonde’s lips. Her fingers roamed around her waistline, only stopping to caress the handle of her sword with a dream-like sense of lust. "Watching Orithya put me down, does it feel good? Does it help you forget how bad of a warrior you are - how weak you are? Does it make you feel like a woman?"

Lampedo reached for her sword, pulling it out of her sheath. A few curious bystanders started gathering around the two women.

"What did you just say?"

Harleen shrugged, her shoulders moving up and down with both nonchalance and grace. She flipped her golden locks backward. She made a show of stretching her long legs in front of her before tilting her head up to stare at Lampedo through long lashes.

"Don’t play coy. I know you heard me."

Harleen’s reply was met with an animalistic groan. In a few seconds, Lampedo had crossed the distance between them, her sword raised over her head.

Their weapons met with a loud clinging sound.

Harleen gave a swift kick to the back of Lampedo’s left leg, shoving her backward with her free hand. She jumped down on her chest, holding the other woman down between her thighs, and brought her blade to her throat. She pressed against delicate skin, trickles of blood seeping through the fresh wound.

"Put your sword down," Harleen ordered, her face lowering down and hovering over Lampedo’s. The warrior’s jaw clenched, but she did as tell. The blonde jumped back up on her feet and kicked her opponent’s sword away.

"Well, that was a fun way to prove a point," she stated offhandedly as she glided across the room. She shoved her sword into its sheath and made a quick half-twirl to look at Lampedo one last time before exiting. "You really are weak."


	8. Green

"Something is on your mind."

Diana raised her gaze from the river running beneath the bridge, propping her chin against her hand to look at Pamela. Her dark curls slid over her shoulder, brushing against the skin of her arm. A pensive smile curled the corner of her lips upward.

"Pamela, it’s nice of you to join me," the princess stated, ignoring the redhead’s earlier comment. "You look ill."

Pamela’s pale complexion looked translucent under the torchlights, almost colorless aside from a slight tinge of green. Diana’s strong hand reached for her cheek; her thumb tracing patterns over her freckled skin. The red-haired warrior shook her head, escaping from the princess’s hold, and heaved a long exhale

"Don’t mother me, Diana." Pamela braced both of her arms against the guardrail. "A friendship is not a one-way road."

Diana’s jaw clenched. She gave her friend a stiff nod. As the future queen, she could not allow herself to have many close relationships. She had to fight most of her battles alone. That was the burden of an Amazon leader.

Pamela moved to give a punch to her bicep. It was a game they sometimes played. The princess raised her forearm, her quick and effective parade almost nonchalant. Her warrior extended both of her arms forward, waiting for a counterattack that never came.

Diana’s shoulders shook with laughter. She slammed one of her friend’s upper back in an amicable gesture the second she let down her guard. Pamela stumbled a little, but her legs were strong, and she was quick to retrieve her balance.

She grabbed the princess’ hand. Instead of taking a hold of her fingers, she squished them between her own.

"What’s on your mind, Diana?"

The princess’ sky-blue eyes peered into hers.

"If you must know," she replied, her stare carried a heavy weight for a woman this young. "There is something in the air, a war to the west. Mother, the queen, believes it might reach our land."

Pamela had never seen war. She only knew the tales elders told of it. It was a life to which she was promised, to which she had always been promised, but the thought of it made a storm of butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"War?" she whispered.

Diana replied with an affirmative hum, her eyes going back to the river below them. They remained quiet for a while, staring down at the river flow. It was a hot summer day and the sound of crickets filled the air. The two women remained in amicable silence, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence.

A wolf howled in the distance.

Diana shifted. She shook her head before lifting her chin up, her dark locks falling over her shoulders. Standing there over the river in a shoulder-length stance, she looked just a regal as the queen.

Pamela cleared her throat and released the hold she had on the princess’ hand.

"Do you ever wonder about your place in the world, Pamela?" the princess asked her.

The proud warrior turned to look at her. She held herself straight, but, while she was not in the midst of one of her fever attacks, she still looked a little sickly.

"You sound like an Athenian," she replied with a chuckle. She retracted her smile when she was met Diana’s humorless stare and shrugged with indifference. "I am but a simple warrior, Diana. A high-ranked warrior, but a warrior, nonetheless. I have always known my purpose was greater than my sense of self."

Diana bit her lip. She seemed unsatisfied with the other woman’s answer. Her piercing gaze was searching Pamela for something more, something that held more depth the superficial answer she had provided.

The redhead swallowed hard and looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with Diana’s soul-searching gaze. She felt nervous. She had been feeling nervous for a while now. Her feverish dreams were getting overpowering. Her hallucinations had become more vivid. The voices were becoming overwhelming.

She felt trapped.

"You and me both know you are much more than that," Diana stated, catching the warrior’s chin between her thumb and her index and tilting the other woman’s up to prompt her into meeting her gaze again. She reached down to squeeze Pamela’s shoulder once she could read fire in her gaze again. "False-modesty doesn’t suit you, Pamela."

"I have been consumed with thoughts, lately," the warrior finally relented. "There have been…things going on in my life. Changes. I am not sure what to make of it yet, but it had me thinking. I wouldn’t say that I have been doubting my path, but I have been more…preoccupied than usual-" Pamela closed eyes and threw her head back, a wave of nausea coursing through her body. "But why are you asking me these questions, Diana?"

Diana looked at her friend with slight worry. The barely perceptible shade of green of her skin seemed a tinge darker, a little more noticeable. The princess ran a hand over the redhead’s clammy forehead.

"You are really hot."

Pamela gritted her teeth and chased the older woman’s hand away. Something in the air shifted, a gust of wind ran through the branches of the trees surrounding them. A very distinct floral scent was starting to fill the air, potent and a tad overpowering.

"Why are you avoiding my question, princess?" the warrior’s voice sounded a little deeper. Her tone was seductive, smooth like honey. "Tell me, what's truly on your mind?"

Diana felt a little dizzy.

Her gaze dropped to Pamela’s plump red lips. There was something about them that seemed suddenly enthralling, captivating, completely mesmerizing.

She leaned forward, the breath sliding out of her mouth coming out as a pant. Her lashes fluttered close, the floral scent filling up our lungs like the most tender caress a lover could give.

"I struggle sometimes to draw the line between what is right and what is wrong. Is our society fair? Why am I rich when there are Amazons who are poor? What makes me the future queen and not you, for instance? Am I deserving of this title? "

"But you were born to be queen," Pamela replied with the same self-assured righteousness any of her warrior would have used under the same circumstances.

At that, Diana’s eyes snapped back open. She flinched, a little out of sorts, but her friend’s green eyes drew her quickly back in.

The princess had never noticed how green nor how…enticing they were, but, in that moment, it was all she could see.

Green.

Eyes of green.

Eyes of the purest green, like the thick forest that laid beyond their land.

She felt wrapped in their green, wrapped in the soothing embrace of Pamela’s stare.

"I was born to be queen," Diana repeated after the redhead, the words stumbling uncomfortably out of her dry mouth. 

"Yes, exactly. You were born to be queen. Do not let the events of the past few days distract you from your responsibilities."

The warrior reinforced her statement with a firm nod, her body shifting slightly as she did so, her hand accidentally brushing against the princess’s forearm. Diana leaned into the touch, her mouth slowly lowering down towards Pamela’s increasingly inviting cherry lips.

"What do you think you are doing?" Pamela shouted. The fiery red-haired warrior’s hands shoved her backward, waking Diana from her trance-like state. "I know you like to entertain the ladies of the city in your palace room, but I am not one of your playthings!"

The princess’ lashes fluttered wildly as she tried to regain her senses. For long seconds, all she could do was to stare at her friend with her mouth agape, scattered thoughts rushing back to her mind all at once.

"I don’t- It’s not-Pamela, I really didn’t mean to-" Diana tried to justify her bewildering actions, both to her friend and herself. Her heart was thumping loudly against her ribcage. "You are right. You are not my plaything. I do not understand what just happened. I don’t, I really don’t, but I swear, by Artemis, our friendship matters to me."

Pamela crossed her arms over her chest, their long years of friendship was the only thing keeping her rooted in place.

"I don’t want friends who do not take me seriously," she hissed.

Anger was starting to bubble up in her chest, threatening to burst out. She was angry, angry, angry, an anger that ran deeper than her own.

 _Mother_ , a whisper. _Mother_

The world around her became a blur.

"I take you seriously," Diana mumbled, her voice filled with shame. "I really do. I am sorry I failed proving it to you tonight."

Pamela felt herself falling backward.

Diana’s strong arms caught her before she could hit the ground.

_Save us._


	9. An Almost Perfect Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter!

Harleen roamed through the city all evening, lost in her thoughts. She could not stop thinking about Lampedo and the look of humiliation on her face as she laid down on the ground defeated. It brought her a feeling of elation.

That evening, she basked in a feeling euphoria.

It was an evening unlike any other, an evening in which the possibilities seemed endless. She climbed up buildings and ran across rooftops, breathing in the soft smell of spring flowers filling the air.

For the first time in her life, Harleen felt free.

She tumbled through Pamela’s window later that night, still laughing at everything and nothing. She tumbled to the ground. She propped both of her hands on the floor and pushed herself up. The room was unusually dark. She could hear Pamela’s harsh sickly breathing.

She was able to make out Pamela’s figure in the dark, lying down in her bed, her curly hair sprawled across her pillows like a crown.

She took a few steps forward, a strange feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

That is when her world shifted. In the split of a second, a firm arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back, pressed tight against the bodice of an armor.

A sharp dagger found nest against her neck. Dark curls fell over her shoulder, mingling with her own. The voice that spoke to her next was deep and commanding.

"Move and your dead!"

Harleen giggled maniacally.

"Princess!" She shrieked, a yelp slipping through her lips when the dagger was pushed further into her throat. "What are you doing in Pammy’s room?"

Diana’s body stiffened against her. The princess did not lower her stance She chose instead to move her leg forward, her posture growing more threatening.

"I could ask you the same question."

Never in her life had the princess spared a glance at Harleen, let alone spoken to her. As subject eager to please, she had often tried to image a situation in which it could occur. She had played in her mind many scenarios, but none came close to the position in which she currently was.

"She is my everything," Harleen wined. She lowered both of her arms, her hands taking hold of the other woman’s forearm. She squeezed it, her body squirming a little against Diana’s armored chest. "She is the only one who sees me. The only one who cares."

The princess retracted her weapon and sighed heavily, both of her arms falling limply at her sides.

"She is very ill," she stated, her brows furrowing into a frown. "I suspect there might be some magical force at play."

"Magical?" squealed the blonde, rushing toward her friend.

Diana followed close behind and took seat at the foot of the bed, one of her hands taking rest against the legs of the sleeping red haired warrior. Her stare was stern, and her features held a seriousness that was a little concerning.

Harleen stopped a foot away from the bed, suddenly hesitant. Her day had seemed close to perfect until she stumbled unto her friend’s room, but, as she stood in front of Pamela, she had been punched to the guts. A strong comforting hand reached for hers, squeezing it in a motherly gesture. She turned her gaze towards the princess. Diana gave a nod in the redhead’s direction, encouraging Harleen to move forward.

The blonde took a deep breath and crossed the last bit of distance that separated her from her sick friend. The sight before her was unlike anything she had ever seen. Pamela’s pale complexion had considerably darkened, taking a rich shade of green. Something akin to vines seemed to grow out of her skin, lacing around her legs and arms. It adored her skin like tattoos, like jewellery that lived and breathed, slithering across her body like snakes.

Harleen’s hand ran across her friend’s patterned skin. The vines seemed to react at her touch, leaning into it, leaves lingering against her skin like the gentle pads of fingers.

"What is that?" she whispered, both horrified and enthralled.

Harleen nodded with fervor and took a seat on Pamela’s bed. She ran her fingers to her mane of hair, surprised at how soft her curls suddenly were.

"I am here now," she told the motionless warrior. "I’ll take care of you."

Diana got up, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the display of intimacy. It was not that she had never seen a woman dot on another one in that way, but Pamela was a guarded woman and seeing her in such a state of vulnerability made her feel a little voyeur.

"Perhaps I should go," she mumbled, straightening the material of her skirt. "Let me know if you observe any change in her condition."

"Uh-hen," Harleen replied, a little distractedly. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest and the feeling was utterly unpleasant.

Diana cleared her throat and scratched at the back of her neck. She hated seeing one of her sisters in such a state. She often felt as though the health and safety of each and every one of her warriors fell under her responsibility. Pamela was also one of her close friends. She would dare say that she sometimes even saw her as a confidant, a type of relationship that was rare and precious for someone of her rank.

She took once last look at the motionless form before walking across the room. As she reached for the handle, she heard a soft girlish voice address her one last time.

"Thank you," Harleen said.

Diana stopped on her track, one of her hands on the door handle. She nodded, throwing a glance over her shoulder. The hint of a smile crossed her serious features.

"You take care of her!"

And she left.


	10. A favor for a Favor

"Harleen, why, oh, why are you here again?"

Selina was lying on a chaise long. She was propped on one of her elbows, staring up at the blonde. her long legs were stretched out elegantly against a mountain of cushions. She extended her free hand upward, lifting up her cup in the general direction of a lightly dressed servant. The tall brunette poured her wine, her dark wild curls falling forward as she bent down. Selina stared at her with unabashed attention.

Harleen watched the servant walk away, seemingly transfixed by her appearance.

"You know, your servant shares a striking resemblance with the princess."

Selina straightened her back as though suddenly uncomfortable in her position. Her mouth twisted into a grimace. Her eyebrows shifted upward as she pressed her wine cup against her lips. Her left eye twitched a little when she put her cup down.

"Pure coincidence," she replied, crossing her fingers over one of her knees. "I would never hire someone who happens to look like her on purpose. Besides, I am going to be honest with you, I really do not see the resemblance."

"Mhmm," Harleen hummed as though it made much sense.

"Why are you here?" Selina asked again, taking a pause to sip her wine. "Don’t you have training at this time of the day?"

"Yes, but I decided to come here instead." Harleen took a deep breath. "You are one of the people I trust most in this city."

"I fail to understand why," the merchant replied, her tone dipped in sarcasm.

"Because you’re the only person who truly sees me as I am. Everybody always looks at me like I am some kind of a joke because of my family’s history. People look at me as though I am worth less than them, as though I am beneath them." Harleen walked across the room and sat on Selina’s chaise long, reaching out for both of her hands. She squeezed them between her own, her big blue eyes staring straight into Selina’s piercing green ones. "But you don’t."

Selina looked at her, a thoughtful expression settling across her features. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat and casted her gaze down towards the many rings on her intertwined fingers. Her thumb played with the delicate jewellery adorning her index.

"Harleen, it seems to me that you don’t ask much of the people around you." The dark-haired woman gently slapped Harleen’s hands away and crossed both of her arms over her chest. She took a deep inhale. "Not that I blame you. People are hardly trustworthy. But, you, you don’t demand enough of people. You content yourself with little because you don’t understand your worth."

The blonde threw her arms around Selina, pulling her in a bone crushing hug. At first, the proud merchant tried to pull away, but the warrior’s enthusiasm quickly caught on with her and she melted into the embrace.

"Something happened to my friend," Harleen mumbled when she finally let go of Selina. She propped both of her elbows against her knees and grabbed a fistful of her golden locks. "I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go to."

Selina sighed, running both of her hands against the fabric of her tunic. She lowered down her cup of wine on the low table in front of her and indicated the door to her servant with a head gesture. The tall brunette nodded understandingly and walked out of the room.

"What’s going on?" she said, once the other woman was out of the room. Her gaze was intense, like the drum of war and like the fear storming in Harleen’s stomach.

"I don’t know, I don’t know!" The blonde replied, her legs bouncing up and down. "That’s the thing. I don’t know! She looks sick. She’s feverish. She looks greenish, almost! You are worldly, Selina. I know nothing. You know so much. You need to come and see."

Selina pressed one of her hand against Harleen’s leg. She cupped the young woman’s chin and turned her head towards her. Her piercing green eyes staring straight into the young warrior’s gaze.

"Take a deep breath," she whispered, her tone of voice firm and intense. "I need you to calm down."

Harleen gasped, her eyes growing bigger. A single sob escaped her mouth as tears welled up her eyes. She bit down on her quivering lower lip.

Selina ran her thumb over the tears streaming down the warrior’s cheeks.

Harleen took a deep inhale and nodded.

"I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll come with you and offer help." Selina stated, crossing one of her leg over the other. "But when time comes, I’ll collect a favor. A favor for a favor."

Harleen’s head bobbed up and down.

"A favor for a favor," the blonde repeated after the merchant.

"Yes," murmured Selina, her lips wrapping around the word. "A favor for a favor."


	11. The Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess takes a bath and reflects on her eventful week.

Diana dipped one of her feet in the milk bath her servant had poured a little earlier. The fragrant scent of rose caressed her nose. Her thoughts drifted to her friend Pamela, her stomach churning as the image of her greenish complexion slipped into her mind.

Discussions of war and of death were the second uninvited memories to invade her thoughts.

She lowered herself into her bath, a heavy sigh escaped from between her parted lips. She closed her eyes and plunged under the surface. An icy feeling slid up her chest to dig its nails into her heart. She held her breath until her head swam with dizziness. She broke the surface, panting and gasping. Her fingers clasped around the edge of her bathtub as she choked for air.

"Princess?" her servant Cassandra’s soft voice came streaming into the room like the first rays of sunshine. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Diana replied, her voice coming out as a squeak. Her cheeks were flushed. Her throat was dry. She hung her head backward, her now heavy hair pulling down on her neck.

Cassandra walked into her private bath chamber, her pace fast yet discreet.

She had the feet of a dancer, the princess noted.

The young servant reached for the small seat in the corner of the room and brought it close to the edge of the bath.

"You could have made a great warrior," Diana mused while shutting her eyes close, her long strands of hair floating around her. "The way you move is swift and agile."

Cassandra reached for the princess’ wild mane pulling it out of the water. She slid her hand down towards the nape of her neck, massaging it with gentle care.

"Oh, princess," Cassandra replied, her voice peaceful and melodious. "I wouldn’t dare dream such a thing."

Diana growled, her dark brown opening to search Cassandra’s gaze.

"Why?" She almost hissed, turning around to face her servant. "Why don’t you want more for yourself?"

Cassandra’s hands dropped to her laps. She looked down, unable to meet the princess’ fierce and demanding stare. She shrugged, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

"You can’t understand," she replied after a while.

Diana pushed herself away from Cassandra. She stared her down from the other side of her bath, rage swimming in her eyes.

"What is there to understand?" She growled. "You have great abilities. You should be angry at all of this injustice. You should want more!"

Cassandra looked back up, her soft green eyes meeting Diana’s anger with surprising pride. She pushed her long braid over her shoulder and crosser her arms over her chest. Her lips set into a thin line and her eyebrows furrowed a little.

"You have everything, princess. You were born with everything. Everything." Cassandra’s voice was a firm whisper. "You could be everything you want. All I have to decide for myself is whether to be happy or not with the little choices that I have. I have no warrior training nor servants to wait on me. You clearly don’t understand what that is or means."

Diana’s was rendered speechless which was a rare occurrence. She had the arrogance of privilege and was not often met with confrontation. She sat there, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes opened wide.

"I am sorry, princess," Cassandra mumbled, her gaze lowering back to the hands resting on her laps. "I was out of place."

The princess eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. She brought her hand to the back of her neck, rubbing it with an ungraceful motion of an embarrassment.

"No, I am the one who is sorry. I have a lot on my mind and, instead of dealing with it, I lashed out on you." Diana moved forward, grasping both of Cassandra’s hands between her own. "It was wrong."

"Is it true?" Cassandra asked, her small hands feeling trapped between the princess’ strong grasp. "That we are to be at war with Athens."

Diana’s bottom lip jutted out, her usually serious composition suddenly juvenile. It was one of the few occasions where Cassandra was reminded of her youthfulness. She bent forward, squeezing her hand out of the princess’s grasp to brush a wet strand of hair out of Diana’s face.

"I fear that is true, indeed. They have been attacking Amazon camps to the west. Mother believes they are planning an invasion." The princess’ tone of voice was deep and solemn. "It is what our oracles predict and, while I will fight for my sisters with pride, I feel sorrow for the losses our people will suffer."

Cassandra nodded, her facial expression turning thoughtful.

"I see," she stated after a long pause.

They stayed in comfortable silence for a while longer. Diana spun around, pressing both of her shoulders against the bathtub. Cassandra resumed her massage, working on the knots in the princess’s shoulders.

Diana closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to Pamela. The last time she saw the red-haired woman, her state was worrisome. She seemed to emanate some form of attraction spell. The princess had felt compelled to move closer to her like a bee to a flower. The warrior had looked ill and skin tone seemed to have taken an unusual greenish shade.

The princess had never heard of anything of the sorts. She knew for certain that it had to do with the gods. A human never developed such abilities without divine interference. Judging by her friend’s affliction, it was likely that she or her family had upset some kind of god or goddess. She might have been caught in the middle of a conflict between two deities. That seemed a likely hypothesis as she had the aptitude to attract people in a way that went beyond the capacities of a normal human, but the sickness that came with it seemed curse inflicted.

Cassandra’s hands moved back up to her neck, firmly massaging a spot behind her ears. Diana sighed with content, both at the sensation and at the satisfying results of her musing. She let herself relax under the expert touch of her servant.

Her mind drifted in another direction, this time settling on a completely different concern.

Selina.

The merchant was up to something. Diana was certain of it. She had been scoping the palace area for almost a month now. The princess had spotted her roaming the premisses at all hours of the night.

Her behavior was suspicious.

And there was something about the arrogance of that woman that really got to her. Nobody ever dared to speak to her that way. She was the princess, the only Amazon more powerful than her was the queen.

"Mhmm," Diana mumbled as Cassandra slid her hands down her neck.

Their last interaction kept finding its way back to her thoughts

Selina.

She was so infuriating.

Diana felt like a volcano of rage about to erupt whenever she thought of her. The woman was disrespectful to her, to everyone, and of everything!

Cassandra’s palm moved firmly down her back.

The princess let out a deep exhale, the weight of her worries becoming lighter as her servant work through the various kinks of her body.

But as Cassandra’s hands moved back to slide across her collarbone, an unexpected memory surfaced at the forefront of her mind.

Selina, as she slammed her unto the wall. The sensation of pressing into her. Selina’s firm body moving against her. Selina grabbing her by the hair to pull her in. Selina’s lips moving against her ear, her hot breath brushing her skin. Selina’s round breasts and the way they felt under her touch.

The princess gasped, suddenly flooded with horrifyingly delightful sensations.

"Princess, is there something wrong?" her servant asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Diana replied, her voice a little hoarse.

The princess cleared her throat. Her gaze lowered to the dips and curves of her own body, taking note of her flushed breasts and erected nipples.

"Are you turned on?" Cassandra’s tone suddenly sly. One of her hand slowly moved down from the princess collarbone unto her left breast, her fingers cupping the soft flesh while her thumb brushed against the nipple like a question.

A low moan escaped Diana’s mouth as she suddenly recalled eliciting a similar sound from Selina with a similar touch.

The princess grunted and wrapped her hand around Cassandra’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss.

"Let me take you," Diana whispered when they finally parted, a breath away from Cassandra’s lips. "I need-"

Cassandra pressed her forehead against the princess’, nodding vigorously.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "Yes, please, take me."


	12. The Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela woke up

Pamela woke up perched on the branch of a tree in the middle of what appeared to be the same luxuriant forest as in her last delirious experience. A liana had wrapped itself around her waist holding her safely in place like the gentle embrace of a lover. She ran her fingers smoothly over the vine, gasping with surprise at the tingling sensation that erupted in her stomach.

She took a deep breath, every inch of her body felt vibrant with life. The air was humid and thick, rich with sweet and enveloping scents. She shifted a little, surprised by the ease with which she moved. Her movements were unusually powerful and fluid.

She looked down. The ground was low beneath her.

She sighed, wondering how she would manage to get down. As the thought graced her mind, something incredible happened, the vine wrapped around her waist motioned her lower as though controlled by her psyche, not unlike arms.

She grabbed it by both hands as it brought her down, gently lowering her down unto the ground. When she first stepped on the grass, she felt it dancing under her feet, speaking to her in a language that was both new and familiar.

_Mother, mother, mother._

She felt at home.

_She is here._

Pamela looked at her hands wrapped around the vines. They were green, she noticed, a beautiful shade of green. She slid her fingers over her arms, enthralled by the stemlike lines protruding across biceps and down her forearm. Her skin felt smooth, almost alive.

_We need you._

She breathed in, her heart singing like a bird serenades the sun. She felt her hair growing and sliding down her back in wild curls akin to blossoming spring flowers. She ran her hands through her locks, fascinated by their vibrant colour, red like the petals of an anemone.

_Find us._

She sat down, pressing both of her palms to the ground. She took it all in, the wind running across her skin, the first rays of sunshine feeding her very soul.

"Pam…", a whisper.

She rolls unto her back, enjoying the sensation of grass slithering against her body.

"Pam!" she hears, this time a little louder. "Come back to me!"

***

"Harleen!" Pamela sat up with her back ramrod straight. She looked frantically around, her eyes meeting the ones of a short haired brunette with a catlike green stare. "You!"

Selina smirked from her position at the end of the Pamela’s bed. She crossed a leg over the other and angled her body forward, curling both of her hands around her knee.

"Pammy!"

Strong arms wrapped around her neck and a mop of blonde hair found refuge against her neck. Pamela’s eyes grew wide.

"Harleen?"

The blonde warrior sat on her knees, straddling the redhead woman with both of her legs. She cocked her head to the side, her large blue eyes peering into Pamela’s gaze.

"I was scared you would never wake up!" She said, singsongingly like a child. "You looked sick."

Pamela noticed her friends pretty face was hovering at an inch distance or two from hers. Her breath caught into her throat. She lifted her hips up a little and shimmied backward, trying to put space between them.

Harleen did not seem bothered by their position even if they had company. She seemed perfectly content to rest there, perched on her laps. Her face might have been soft and inquiring, but her hands were restless, and they ran up and down her friend’s thighs with anxious energy. They ceased only once Pamela cleared her throat. They stopped short from the noble woman’s hips, fingers digging into her skin. The material of her sleep gown was riding up her green thighs, an inch away from revealing the most intimate part of the red-haired warrior’s body. The redhead blushed, feeling a sudden wave of heat wash over the juncture between her legs.

Pamela licked her lips, pressing them up together before catching the bottom one between her teeth. She caught the blonde’s hands between her own, bringing them up unto her chest. She rested them against her left breast, her heart beating at a furious pace against their fingers as she tried to muster the courage for what would come next.

"You have been bedridden for the past week," Selina’s raspy voice interrupted their reunion and Pamela’s musings. "We have been taking turns at your bedside."

The noble woman turned toward her, her lashes fluttering wildly. She dropped down both hers and Harleen’s hands between their thighs in a tangle mess of limbs.

"You have been staying at my bedside?" Pamela asked, rightfully confused. "But we hardly know each other."

"It was nothing, really. I have just had to make up a couple of lies and stop a few people from entering the room. I put a few water compresses on your forehead when you were feverish and mumbled _there, there_ ’s when you were delirious." Selina shrugged, moving her bangs out of her eyes and pulling them behind her ear with a graceful hand gesture. She inhaled deeply, her chest moving up in down with heaviness. "It was mainly out of kindness for our mutual friend, Harleen."

Pamela nodded thoughtfully, her bright red hair bouncing up and down like a wild jungle breathing with life. She dropped one of Harleen’s hand and wiped the moisture against the cover before reaching for Selina’s fingers. She gave them a squeeze, sharing an intrigued look and a tentative smile with the mysterious brunette.

"We have been trying to figure out the nature of your condition." Harleen squeaked, bringing the room’s attention back to her. "Selina has been going through her papyruses, but nothing seems to add up. But we have narrowed it down to the possible intervention of a few deities. She wrote down this list-"

"Harleen, Harleen," Pamela caught her off with a soft and nurturing voice, pressing two fingers to the blonde’s pink lips. "There is something I have got to tell you."

Pamela turned her gaze toward the window. A soft breeze was rushing through the curtains, bringing on its paths the soft smell of flowers. The scent caressed her face, whispering her name like destiny calls warriors unto the field of battle.

"I have to go…" She said with manic conviction, pulling her legs out from between Harleen’s legs. She pushed her palms unto the mattress to prop herself up and off the edge of the bed.

"You have to go?" Harleen mimicked, her wide eyes growing impossibly larger.

"Surely, you know that you are not making any sense?" Selina added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stood up to loom over the redhead, crossing her arms over her chest. She planted her impossibly long and powerful legs unto the ground.

"They need me." Pamela replied with a huff, her lips twisting in grimace of disdain. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin up, her steps guiding her to the open window. She closed her eyes and breathed the fresh air in. "They have been calling me. The need my help."

"Who?" Selina and Harleen asked, almost in unison as they exchanged confused glances.

Pamela glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the two other women up before speaking.

"The Green."


	13. The Smuggler

Selina crouched to the ground. Her hand ran over the wall of her room. Searching for irregularities. She stuck one of her long nails into a thin undisguisable crack. She pulled a stone out, revealing a rolled-up papyrus on which was drawn a map of the royal palace. Several notes were scribbled across the various rooms, indicating the guards’ individual routines.

She had been distracted from her plan in the past week. Harleen and her propension for the dramatic had set her back a few days. Selina sat back on her couch and buried one her hands in her short brown hair, twisting one of her curls around her finger. In a corner of the room, she had packed essential items for her close departure which mainly consisted of expensive clothes, and weapons.

Selina was ready to make a quick exit out of the city.

The main issue to her plan was the princess. She was a wild card. The merchant had found her roaming the garden or the hallways at night, seeking to catch her in the act. Selina was still embarrassed that the other woman had managed to catch her by surprise a few weeks prior.

The princess was infuriating. She both possessed the arrogance and the naivety of the privileged. She was ridiculously disconnected of the reality of her people. She was, in many ways, everything Selina despised in this cold world.

The merchant dug her heels in the cushion of her couch and brought her legs against her chest. She wrapped both of her arms around her calves and propped her head against her knees. She had the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something bad was about to happen.

She tried to convince herself that it was all these external factors starting to get to her. It could have been the tragic death of Thalestris or maybe it was the fact that she spent a whole week trying to figure out the curse afflicting a green skin woman she hardly knew.

But there was a shift in the air, the world was changing.

Selina could feel it in her bones.

Isis step into the room and ran up to her, jumping and landing unceremoniously by her feet. Selina extended her legs and watched it climb up to her. She ran her hair across the fur of its back once it nested on her stomach. The tall brunette stretched out, her long arms raising above her head. She let a hand drop against her neck and rubbed it firmly. She brought the other one back down unto her cat and scratch its tiny ears.

"Mommy loves you," she cooed to the little furry creature.

Selina rubbed her foot against her ankle. The day had been long. Pamela rousing from her week-long sleep had been a surprising relief. The merchant didn’t care about this rich noble woman, but she had a soft spot for Harleen. The blonde’s distress had been moving. A bond such as the one the two warriors seem to have was unusual in Amazon society. Affection was not something Amazons often displayed.

Selina had never known anything of the sort. She had grown up in Alexandria. Her parents were extremely poor and sold her into slavery at an incredibly young age. The family that bought her was neither pleasant nor vicious, but the life of a slave was harsh and cruel. She ran away before teenagerhood and found herself living in the streets. She started out as a pickpocket, but she eventually managed to climb her way up. From there, she made contacts in various places and slowly built herself a smuggling empire.

She had several houses in different cities and was ready to flee at any moment, something she often found herself doing as she didn’t like getting attached to people. What made Selina this powerful was that no one actually knew who she really was, and it was perfect that way.

"Here’s the wine you asked," her new servant stated as she walked into the room with an amphora and a cup. She lowered them down on a table close by Selina.

"Thank you, Helena," Selina replied, reaching for the amphora and pouring herself a cup.

Her catlike green eyes followed the retreating form of her servant. The tall woman had a surprisingly strong-looking body for a servant, yet she was not in the same shape as the city’s warriors. Her raven hair was long and fell in luscious curls down her back. Her features were sharp and well-drawn, but her beauty was not particularly memorable. Her sky-blue eyes were of a stunning colour but were not particularly expressive. She seemed like the shadow of a person more than her own self.

The side of Selina’s nose tilted a tad upward and her lips twisted into a pout.

"She doesn’t look like the princess," she grumbled to herself. She scratched Isis’ chin and bent down to peck her small forehead. "Right Isis?"

Isis didn’t reply, choosing instead to plant her claws in Selina’s skin and stretch her lower back. She gave her owner one last unimpressed stare before jumping off of her to slowly make her way out of Selina’s bedroom.

The smuggler threw her head backward and heaved a sigh. She reached for her papyrus and scanned her plan.

"I am going to have to find a way to distract the princess," she stated out loud, reaching for her cup of wine. She took a large gulp and set it back down on the table, crossing her long legs in front of her. "Or this won’t work."


	14. Departure

"Harleen," Alcippe’s voice boomed across the arena. "When you are chosen to be a guard, attending your trainings is not optional"

Alcippe was a highly decorated general in Hippolyta’s army. She was tall, proud, and always serious. Her facial expression was most often stern, and her stance was rigid. Her smiles were rare, but she was fair, and she had her trainees at heart.

Harleen had been telling herself that she could not do her training because of Pamela’s illness, but, in truth, she was also avoiding her fellow guards. She clenched her jaw and gave Alcippe a firm nod.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Orithyia pacing at the far end of the stadium, her long braid swinging behind her back. Harleen was not afraid of her. She knew she could handle her, but she was worried of the damage she could cause if the situation were to escalate again.

"You have a responsibility to your queen and to your city," Alcippe continued with her brows furrowed. "You can’t let juvenile quarrels stop you from fulfill your duty. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, general Alcippe."

Harleen gave her a second nod. She joined her sisters and started her daily training by running around the field, going through the motions on automatic pilot. Her mind was elsewhere. Earlier that morning, she had watched her friend go.

The previous night Pamela had been buzzing around her bedroom, picking up essential items and packing them into a bag. Harleen had watched her from a sitting position on the redhead’s bed. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn’t been able to fully register the situation.

"You are staring," Pamela had stated while folding a chiffon. "I can feel your stare burning through my skull."

Harleen had wrapped her arms around her knees and had remained unusually quiet. Pamela had dropped the piece of clothing she had been holding and had heaved a sigh. She had slowly made her way across the room and had squatted in front of Harleen. The younger warrior had let her friend untangle her limbs with reluctance. The red-haired woman’s uncommonly green complexion had seemed to shine under the soft candlelight. She had looked beautiful, more than ever. Harleen had had to repress the desire to walk her hand across her friend’s oddly textured skin, to dig her fingers into her sumptuous red curls.

"Look at me," Pamela’s luscious red lips had parted to breathe out words wrapped in enchanting perfume. "This is not a goodbye. I am going to come back."

"You promise?" Harleen had felt incredibly small. Her wide blue eyes had filled up with tears. She had barely been able to hold the noble woman’s gaze.

"I promise" Pamela had replied, rising up to a standing position.

A lone tear had rolled down Harleen’s cheek. Pamela had caught it with her thumb and had splattered the liquid along the blonde’s jaw. Her eyes had lingered there as though confused by this novel display of emotion. She had pressed her lower lip against her friend’s cheek, tasting the salty liquid. She had backed up a little to look down at Harleen and had brought her fingers to her lips, her eyebrows raised in an expression of perplexity.

"What is this?" She asked with a soft whisper. She dug her fingers into her friend’s jaw and stuck her tongue out to run it over her now streaming tears. "You taste like life."

Harleen had released a short breath, a sound between a gasp and a sob. She had grabbed her friend’s face and had twisted it around to face hers. Their mouths had met with a clash of teeth, but the blonde had held on to Pamela with despair, her bruising kiss filled with rage and despair.

Harleen had moaned when she had felt her Pamela’s weight settling on top of her. She had wrapped her arms around her and had pulled her tightly against her chest, hoping their bodies could fuse for a moment.

"Don’t go," she had murmured against Pamela’s lips.

The red-haired warrior had looked taken aback and had chosen to push the blonde against the bed instead of reciprocating the sentiment.

"Shh," Pamela had replied, her tongue moving pass Harleen’s lips to caress her tongue. "Don’t say stuff like that. You know I need to go."

She had kissed her gently and languorously, like one would savour a good quality wine. They had only parted to breathe for air, Pamela’s short pants showering an enthralling floral scent over Harleen’s face. The redhead had nuzzled her cheek, lingering a few seconds longer to breathe her in. The silence that had followed was a tad to long to be normal. Harleen had shifted from beneath her friend to look at her. The redhead’s gaze had been intense and deep like a wild forest bustling with life.

"I am going to miss you," Harleen had whispered, her heart hammering against your chest.

Pamela had reached forward to grasp a strand of hair and twist it around her finger.

"I am going to miss you too," she had replied, the corner of her lips turning into a shaky smile.

"Focus!" Alcippe yelled, interrupting her reverie. "Why bother coming here if you are not going to put any efforts into it."

Harleen dropped her sword. The metal clinked and clanged against the pavement. Further away, she could hear Orithyia chuckling in the background.

"She was born a loser," Orithyia murmured to Marpesia. The smile she threw Harleen’s way was vicious. "It’s not her fault. It’s in her blood."

Harleen reacted on instinct. She grabbed a shield, ran across the few feet that separated them and smashed it against her head. While Orithyia was still recovering from her shock, Harleen gave a rough kick to the jointure behind her knees, sending her to the ground. She threw herself on top of the other girl, straddling her body. Then she smashed the shield down on Orithyia’s face, banging, and banging, and banging. The world around her started fading, all she could feel was her anger high rushing through her veins.

Two strong arms grabbed her by the waist and pulled her backward. They held her down until breath returned to normal and vaguely coherent thoughts started to form in her mind again. Her pulse went from high to low in the matter of second. The excitement she had felt earlier quickly turned into shame.

"One of you has to bring Orithyia to the healers," Alcippe shouted to her students, releasing Harleen from her hold.

The blonde looked down at the unconscious warrior. She was in a horribly state. Her face was bloody and swollen to the point that she was barely recognizable.

"As for you," Alcippe turned toward Harleen. "This kind of behaviour is unacceptable. An Amazon’s strength resides in her discipline. You have shown us today that you have no control whatsoever over your impulses. You are out. Gather your things and leave this arena."


	15. Chapter 15

"The meeting is adjourned."

Diana sits stills, her back resting stiffly against the chair. One of their village had just been raided by Spartans. No survivors. She had a week to organize her troupes. She had been chosen to lead the retaliation. The imminence of war was real. No more rumours or prophecy. Death was at their door.

Once they were alone, Hippolyta got up from her seat and walked toward her, her mane of curls swaying with each of her steps. She leaned toward her daughter, taking her hand into hers.

"Diana," She said, worry drawing lines on her forehead. "You are my world. My greatest accomplishment. I have no doubt you’ll bring me pride on the battlefield."

"Your faith in me brings me honour," Diana replied.

She rose to her feet to meet her mother in a fierce embrace, burying her nose into her hair and inhaling her earthy smell. Hippolyta was her role model and everything she aspired to be. The other woman held her tight, unwilling to let her go just yet.

When Diana pulled back, she noticed her mother’s eyes were glistening with tears, a sight she was witnessing for the first time in her life. The princess offered her a comforting smile and just like that Hippolyta regained her composure. The queen gave her nod before walking out of the council room, her cape flowing behind her like the wings of an eagle.

Later that nice, once she was left alone in her bedroom, Diana could not find rest. She got up from her bed and grabbed her nightgown, pulling it over her naked body. The moonlight streaming through the window caressed every item in the room with its enveloping embrace. Artemis was watching over her, like she always did and as she always would.

The walked up to the garden adjacent to her room, hoping to quiet he restless mind and find quietude among nature. She stepped across the grass, her thoughts going to her friend Pamela and her unknown illness. She took the decision to make time to visit her before leaving. While she was certain to survive the fight, she didn’t know if her friend could survive the strange sickness that consumed her. She reached for a flower and caressed its petals. Sometimes she wondered why humans thrived in war and destruction when the world held such beauty.

Diana stiffened up. She could feel a presence looming over her, watching her from behind the shadows. She let her hand slide off the flower and moved it to where usually rested her sword, her fingers intertwining with the ones of another instead of grasping the handle of her weapon.

"If you wanted to hold my hand, princess" a voice she could easily recognize whispered by her ear, "you could have just asked."

A body pressed against her back. Diana swallowed hard. She could hear the other woman’s breath. She could feel it against her skin. The princess took a deep inhale, her chest moving up and down with difficulty.

"Is it true?" Selina asked, her voice so quiet it could barely be heard.

Diana closed her eyes. Selina’s hand felt surprisingly small beneath her own. Her bravado and constant taunts made her seem so tall and grand. It was hard to believe she could feel so tiny. A second hand snaked around her waist and slowly made its way down her hip, fingers drawing patterns over the fabric of her nightgown. It slid down her skirt and lifted it up, nails digging lines in the skin of her thigh. Diana couldn’t gather her thoughts, all of her senses invaded by the other woman’s presence.

"What?" The word came out throaty and low.

"Mhm," Selina replied, pressing her forehead against one of the princess’ shoulders. Her breath shallow and her fingers moving dangerously up Diana’s thigh. "Those villagers decimated. You, leaving."

Diana came back to her sense and flipped around, surprised to find concern in Selina’s eyes. The princess stood there, motionless, terrorized by the fast pace at which her heart was slamming against her ribcage.

"Why would you care?" She asked, her lower lip trembling. "You are nothing but an opportunist. You don’t know the meaning of loyalty. You’ll move on to another city if things don’t work out for you, like you always do."

Selina’s gaze lowered, but a sleazy smile stretched her lips apart. She slithered her arms around Diana’s neck and pressed her body closer, widening her eyes and batting her lashes.

"Would you prefer me a lady in distress?" She said with a sarcastic pout. "Oh, Diaaana! Our national hero, please, fuck me in your bathtub while I worship you like the sweet, naïve, and compliant girl I am!"

Diana growled and grabbed Selina by the fabric of her tunic, pushing her against the bark of a tree and holding her there.

"I am really starting to believe that you’ve got some kind of kink-"

Selina was interrupted by lips pressing against her own, rough and demanding. She let out a staggered gasp before responding in the like, her hands grasping handful of Diana’s hair and pulling at it. The princess was surprised to hear herself moan at the sensation. She was not used to be treated with such lack of deference.

"You didn’t answer my question," Selina said, her lips lingering against the princess’ cheek. Her hand in Diana’s hair, holding her at an inch distance apart.

Her eyes, two emeralds shining in the darkness, searched the warrior’s Mediterranean blue orbs. Her gaze held her usual defiance, but Diana could also read a twinge of genuine care. While the prior fuelled her desire to leave, the lather made her stay.

She let go of the unpredictable woman’s tunic, all of her muscles relaxing in the process. Her hand moved up to cup the merchant’s cheek, her touch gentle this time. She felt Selina’s hold on her hair loosening, fingers now running through her curls, an intoxicatingly inviting caress. Diana leaned forward, her lower lip brushing against the other woman’s at a slow deliberate pace. She pulled it between her lips and sucked on it, pressing one last kiss to Selina’s mouth with her firmly eyes shut, secretly hoping the moment would never end.

"Why do you want me to confirm something you already know, Selina?" Diana asked, once she had mustered the courage to pull back. "You were there, weren’t you? Listening in on us."

Selina didn’t reply, choosing instead to stare up at her with her jaw firmly clenched. Diana wondered, not for the first time what made this woman whom, in so many ways stood against everything she believed in, so enticing. Arms snaked around the princess’ waist like the mouth of a metal trap closing on the leg of its prey. The princess leaned into the touch, desperate for contact of any kind.

The two women faced each other, breaths mingling, stares unwavering, both waiting for the other to capitulate.

"You fail to get me," Selina eventually said, breaking eye contact and pushing herself off the tree. Her arms fell limply at her sides. She slipped out of the princess’ grasp, her furtive steps already bringing her back to the shadows where she belonged. "I do care, maybe not in the way you would want or that you would even understand. But I care."

Diana heard truth in her words and, for a second, the world around to disappear. All that remained was Selina, standing there in front of her, her forlorn gaze mingling rage, pain, and utter loneliness.

"Wait!" Diana’s voice pierced the darkness, powerful yet almost desperate.

But Selina was already gone.


	16. The Initiation

Pamela took a path through the forest- well-aware that her skin tone would attract too many questions from her peers. The forest had also always felt like home. She had never really been one to be interested in the frivolities that came with social interactions. She preferred the subtle conversations she held with the land, the different voices of the wind, the whispers of the rain, the trees leaning toward the light, and the grass brushing against her feet.

The warrior was not just a great fighter; she was also an amazing hunter. She knew how to be quiet, how to be disappear between the trees. She knew how to become one with nature and how to recognize its disturbance.

As a military society, Amazon warriors, like Spartans, were required to be survivors. While their methods were different, they were just as harsh. A lot of the rumours about them were true. No male baby survived the crime of being birthed to an Amazon mother. Every other day, midwife would be seen throwing male babies off a cliff on the outskirt of the city, only looking down to make sure that, unlike Hephaistos, their bones broke against the rock leaving them dead. Some, like Harleen, found the treatment of these babies harsh or even cruel, but Pamela did not. She was entirely indifferent to it.

The warrior wasn’t one to feel or display many emotions for other humans, even less so for men. They were of no interest for her. Her mother had been exactly the same. She was a cold disciplinarian more than a caregiver. Outside of her formal friendship with Diana and the unexpected intimate friendship she had formed with Harleen, Pamela didn’t experience or know much of warmth or affection.

***

_Around the age of 80 moon cycles, a ceremony, often judged as violent and barbaric by outsiders, was held for Amazon children. It was known as a form of rebirth. Every girl of age was brought deep into the forest and were abandoned there without weapons or food. They had to live off of the land for seven days and seven nights before finding their way back to their home. It was not rare that girls died before the week was over. Then there were those that could find their way back, those whose skills were better, but whose death was longer and more painful. But a few of them, such as Diana, Harleen or Pamela made it back._

_They survived._

_They were the best of the best, the only girls fit to become Amazons. The only girls fit to live. At least, that was what they had always been taught._

_When Pamela had undertook her ritual, she had disappeared in the woods for a length longer than a moon cycle. She had been marked as dead by the elders. No one believed child that young could survive this long on their own._

_No one ever forgot their initiation ritual. It was a week where children lost many friends and went through many horrifying ordeals. Some girls, unable to find food, would spend the whole week famished and delirious. Some came back injured or a step away death._

_None would ever come back the same._

_Young Pamela’s first few days in the woods had been spent in hunger. She had spent the four first days, walking around desperate to find something to eat. She had managed to grasp a few berries and eggs in nests she could find between branches, but nothing that could fill the hole in her stomach. She had spent the fifth day sitting by a river, opting on conserving her energy. The little girl had thought that, at least there, she would have been able to quench her thirst._

_She had laid down by the water, listening to its flow with her eyes half closed, strange visions filling up her mind. She had heard the initiation; the lack of food would often draw girls mad. Pamela had thought then that if she could manage to stay by the river for two more days, like she had been doing that day, maybe she could make her way back home unscathed._

_The little girl had remained in her position for what seemed hours, her head fuzzy, her body nauseous, and heavy eyelids threatening to shut close. She would have stayed that way for days more, but then the unexpected happened._

_Something in the water had moved._

_At first, Pamela thought she had been hallucinating again. Then the movement had turned into a human-looking forehead popping out of the water and a set of eyes fixed on her, two dark eyes as dark as a pitched black night. The look they had given her as almost animalesque, nothing like the little girl had ever known. While they looked human, there was something about the wilderness of them that told the future warrior that they were anything but._

_The creature had slowly risen up and out of the water, her dark naked form very woman like. She had walked up to Pamela and had sat by her, her wet hand reaching forward to push a strand of hair behind the little girl’s hair._

_"I have been watching you, my little one," it had said. Her voice had been odd, soft like water yet firm like the trunk of a tree, nothing like Pamela had ever known._

_It had caressed her hair, slowly taking the little girl into her arms like one would embrace a frightened animal. She had held her against her, cajoling her with gentle care. Pamela had leaned into the touch, tears forming at her eyes. She had never experienced anything of the sort. The creature’s embrace had been motherly-like and so comforting in this moment of complete vulnerability. Her night-like skin had felt so warm, like the softest beams of sunlight piercing through the trees. Her soft whispers had felt like the wind was murmuring sweet lullabies to her ear._

_"You are letting yourself die, little one," it had said. The wood creature had picked her then, holding her up against her hip. Her strength had been surprising. She had lifted the little girl up as though she were feather-light instead of a tiny pile of muscles. "Your mother has sent me here. She needs you alive."_

_Pamela had thought of her mother back home, doubting very much that she cared whether or not she lived. The creature, instead of bringing her at a safe distance from the city, had dragged her deeper inside the forest, her calm rhythmic steps lulling the little girl to sleep._

_The young Amazon had woken up much later in a bed of moss, a strange sheet made of woven grass had been wrapped around her, keeping her warm. She had found a bountiful number of fruits and vegetables by her side and it had filled her with boundless joy._

***

Pamela stopped her wandering thoughts, feeling another presence in the dark night. She pulled out her sword in the matters of second and flipped around, bringing it up to the throat of the figure standing behind her.

"Now, that’s not a way to welcome a friend," the familiar wood nymph, standing in front of her, said. The creature smiled; her teeth as white as the moon shining above their head.

"Nayra," the warrior exclaimed, a feeling of warmth washing over her. "I have been looking for you!"

"My precious little one," The nymph replied, rubbing her nose over Pamela’s neck and cheeks with affection, taking her scent in. "I know!"


End file.
